


Dangerous Machinations

by EndTableForOrphans



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, F/M, Fantasizing, Flirting, Light Angst, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Sex, Teasing, what is tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndTableForOrphans/pseuds/EndTableForOrphans
Summary: The Inquisitor and Company arrive at Halamshiral to prevent the assassination of Empress Celene, but a lot more happens behind the walls of the Winter Palace besides the dangerous machinations of The Grand Game.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Mage Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Reports from The Emerald Graves… Reports from the Western Approach. Cullen had counted over two dozen reports in his hands alone. Reports on caravans, resources, troop and enemy movements, strategy. Cullen counted about a dozen reports alone, among them being a particularly colorful report from Captain Rylan.

Cullen found himself moving throughout Skyhold without much thought. His feet had memorized these steps well enough and often times Cullen found himself distracting himself on his way to Roselyn’s quarters, memorizing each report so she could read along as he spoke. He knew she didn’t spend much time in Skyhold, so what little time she had was precious and rare, so if Cullen wanted to keep her well informed, this was his chance and opportunity. Cullen reaches the door to the tower of her quarters and enters, his feet echoing against the stone and his lips moving along with the words he reads. As he draws closer to the top of the tower, he can hear the muffled sounds of voices. The closer he gets; he is able to discern them as the voices belonging to Josephine and Leliana.

Perhaps this would be an impromptu meeting.

Cullen groaned at the thought.

Without giving much thought, he opened the door to her quarters and ascended the stone steps, tucking the reports under his arm. The chatter suddenly stops, the room growing eerily silent.

“Who-?” He hears Josephine’s voice ring out.

“It’s the Commander, of course.” Cullen can almost hear the smirk in Leliana’s voice.

“Oh,” He hears Roselyn breathe out.

As he reaches the top of the steps, he does not see them collected around the Inquisitor’s desk as he would have expected. Instead, Roselyn stands on a platform in the middle of the room, dressed in a long gown made of a fine red silk that reminded Cullen of autumn leaves. Delicate gold bead and gold stitchwork had been done on the bodice which hugged closely to her body and cupped her breasts. The bodice dropped lower than was Ferelden or in Marcher fashion, which left Cullen to assume was the Orlesian fashion.

“What do you think Commander?” Leliana smiles as she smooths Roselyn’s skirts, fanning them out.

“I don’t believe I am the expert on Orlesian fashion or affairs, so I don’t think it really matters what I think.” Cullen clears his throat and shifts his weight to his other heel.

“It is a very pretty dress. And it will have sleeves of course. We cannot have the Inquisitor looking like a half-naked harlot.” Leliana smirks.

“Leliana!” Josephine stares wide eyed in horror.

“I mean we might as well.” Roselyn smirks.

“It would give them something to talk about.” Leliana chuckles.

“God forbid we let the Orlesian courts grow weary of us already.” Roselyn pretends to let out an exasperated sigh.

“I believe the Orlesian courts are already talking about us the adequate amount.” Josephine rolls her eyes.

“The adequate amount is not at all.” Cullen chuckles.

“I do believe you had already previously stated that you were not the expert on Orlesian affairs.” Roselyn turned her gaze away from Cullen and back to her reflection in the mirror, looking over the dress once more.

Cullen rolls his eyes.

“Are those your reports?” Leliana turns away from Roselyn to face Cullen.

“Yes, we had an appointment.” Cullen clears his throat.

“Shit.” Roselyn grows wide eyed and makes eye contact with Cullen in the mirror.

“You forgot.” Cullen raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t forget.” Roselyn purses her lips.

Cullen merely hums in response.

“I’m just running behind is all.” Roselyn mumbles. “Josephine can you help get this off, I really should start my meeting with Cullen.”

Roselyn and Josephine disappear behind a fabric divider and Cullen can hear the sound of Josephine unlacing the bodice of Roselyn’s dress. Cullen forces his eyes away from the barrier, trying to ignore the thoughts and sounds of fabric sliding off of Roselyn’s smooth milk white skin. His heart pounding in his chest and his ears, surely everyone would be able to hear his thoughts. Surely, they would know.

“You’ve finally received word from Captain Rylan. Is he always… like that?” Cullen feels Leliana’s icy stare upon him now.

“Yes.” Cullen chuckles, thankful for the distraction.

He refocuses his mind back to the reports. The reports he had been reading. The reports he needed to report on. The reports for the inquisitor. Those reports. What did they say again?

“Are you two talking about Captain Rylan’s report on the wildlife in Orlais?” Josephine raises her voice to speak over the fabric divider.

“Yes.” Leliana and Cullen say simultaneously.

“It was colorful… I will give him that.” Cullen could hear the disappointment drip from Josephine’s tone through the barrier.

“Great, I can’t wait to hear this.” Cullen hears Roselyn chuckle.

“Hold still!” Josephine lectures.

“I’m trying Josephine—” Roselyn groans.

“You should have been here when they were putting it on.” Leliana smirks out of the corner of Cullen’s eye.

Cullen raises an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah. Let’s just continue to make fun of the Inquisitor.” Roselyn snorts.

“You were acting like a child!” Josephine snaps.

“You want to know the last time I wore a corset Josephine? I was fifteen! I was fifteen years old! There’s also no need to wear a corset under your robes or out in the real world when you’re fighting Maker knows what.” Roselyn snaps back.

“I barely even tightened it at all!” Josephine cries out.

“Yes, but I need to be able to have free movement in it… and you do realize this could very well be ruined right? Like I cannot guarantee it won’t be covered in blood at the end of the night.” Roselyn grumbles.

“You will not be getting blood on this dress.” Josephine and Leliana say together.

“I mean _I_ won’t be the one bleeding.” Roselyn chuckles darkly.

“There, you can finish by yourself. I will personally take this to the tailor, so I know nothing happens to it.” Josephine reappears with the dress in tow, folding it carefully over her arm.

“What ever do you mean Josephine, I’d never.” Roselyn says too sweetly.

“You might not, but I trust _Sera_ would however.” Josephine frowns.

“Can you ask the tailor to add some secret compartments?” Roselyn says, Cullen hears the rustling of fabric behind the divider.

“What… Kind of secret compartments?” Josephine quirks an eyebrow.

Cullen and Leliana glance at each other before glancing back over at the fabric divider. Roselyn peaks her head out from behind the divider, her bare neck and freckled shoulder just barely exposed past the curtain.

Cullen swallows and glances away.

“Large compartments… Pockets, I guess? Large enough to hide Orlesian secrets.” Roselyn smirks.

“I will… See what I can do.” Josephine sighs.

“Thank you, Josephine.” Roselyn grins.

“It is no problem, Inquisitor.” Josephine bows her head before turning to leave.

“I will leave too. I have a few items that require my attention.” Leliana bows her head before turning to leave with Josephine.

Cullen hears the continuous rustling of fabric before Roselyn appears from behind the divider. Cullen blinks. She wears a simple linen brown dress, her hem coming just slightly above her ankles. Where the first dress was fire and fine silk, the second was earthy and relaxed. She looked common, unlike the Inquisitor.

“Much better, don’t you think?” Roselyn strolls over to her desk and sits against the surface, facing Cullen.

“I believe I’ve already made it clear that I am no expert in such matters.” Cullen coughs before rubbing the back of his neck.

“You said you were no expert in _Orlesian_ fashion. This dress is not Orlesian.” A faint smirk tugged on the corner of her full lips.

“Ah, so you do listen to me when I talk.” Cullen rolls his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Roselyn quirks her head.

Cullen quirks his eyebrow.

“Does this have to do with the caravan routes?” Roselyn folds her arms over her chest.

“You do actually listen.” Cullen smirks.

“Of course, I listen. Sometimes you just don’t have very good ideas.” Roselyn rolls her eyes.

Cullen sighs.

“Shall we begin, Inquisitor?” Cullen offers her the reports that he was holding.

Roselyn takes a few steps forward to receive the reports. She glances up at Cullen with her clearwater gray eyes and they freeze for a moment as she tugs the reports free from Cullen’s hands. Her full lips part as they hold each other’s gaze and Cullen feels his heartbeat and is deafened by the steady thrum. Cullen wonders for a fleeting moment what it would be like to press his lips against hers. He imagines what it would be like to hold his hand against her cheek, and his other cradling the back of her neck. He imagines what it would be like to press his body against hers, drowning in her dizzying scent.

Cullen releases the reports and clears his throat before taking a few steps back. He looks down for a momentarily before glancing back up. Roselyn continues staring back at him with her clear-eyed gaze, her rosy lips parted slightly. Cullen notices the faint blush that had crept across her fair cheeks. Cullen clears his throat and rubs his hand against the back of his neck.

“So, the first report is from Captain Rylan, reporting from the Western Approach.” Cullen begins, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Ah yes, what does the good Captain report?” Roselyn turns her gaze to the first piece of parchment.

“Well, he does not seem to be getting along with the local wildlife.” Cullen chuckles.

“Are there bears in the Western Approach?” Roselyn scans the page over with her eyes.

“Excuse me?” Cullen blinks.

“Bears. In the Western Approach.” Roselyn glances up quickly from the report and returns her gaze back.

“Erm. No. There seem to be a plethora of hyenas, phoenixes, quillbacks, varghests. That’s the majority anyways.” Cullen wrinkles his brow.

Roselyn hums in response before taking a few steps forward and she begins walking aimlessly around the room while reading the report. Cullen continues making a few remarks about the report and being interrupted by a few chuckles here and there.

“Rylan’s reports are always so entertaining.” Roselyn finally looks up.

“I will let him know.” Cullen chuckles.


	2. Chapter 2

Roselyn smooths the red silk skirt before politely folding her white gloved hands in front of her. The bodice hugs closely to her corseted body, decorated with gold stitched and embroidered floral patterns that creeps across the bodice and down the skirt. The voluminous sleeves that had been added to the dress are made of the same silken material as the rest of the dress, stopped at Roselyn’s elbows, thank the Maker. Tight or longer sleeves would have run a higher risk of being torn with movement, and Roselyn found these sleeves fairly comfortable.

“Inquisitor.” Roselyn turns and finds Josephine in a pale olive dress, with skirts that swish as she walks. Her arms are adorned with long silken sleeves that gather at the wrists. A similar floral pattern creeps across the bodice of Josephine’s bodice, embroidered in gold and tiny pearls.

“Josephine, your dress looks very beautiful.” Roselyn flashes a smile.

The smile she had been practicing for weeks.

“Yes, I believe they all turned out very nicely!” Josephine beams.

“The shoes as well.” Roselyn spins around and finds Leliana, who had traded her usual straight short hair style for soft waves that fell around her face. Leliana was dressed in a pale sage green dress that was slightly less full in the skirt than Josephine’s dress, and her sleeves voluminous and resting at the elbows, similarly to Roselyn’s. Roselyn noted the tiny gold embroidered floral patterns that were stitched on the sculpted sleaves of Leliana’s dress.

“Is everyone in place?” Roselyn says lowly to Leliana.

“All except one.” Leliana sighs.

“Who?” Roselyn furrows her brow.

Leliana gestures around them and Roselyn realizes within seconds who she means. Cullen. Of course, he would be late. Roselyn tucks a stray curl behind her ear before tugging on her gloves again.

“Inquisitor, you’re fidgeting again.” Leliana turns to Roselyn and untucks the stray curl from her ear. “Relax.”

“The courts will notice if you’re nervous.” Josephine smiles weakly.

“Yes, because there is absolutely nothing to worry about.” Cullen scoffs.

“Thank the Maker you’re here!” Josephine spins around, the skirts of her olive dress twirling with her.

“How unlike you to be fashionably late, Commander.” Leliana smirks.

Roselyn turns to greet the commander, her red skirts swishing in the process.

“Bon noir, Commander. You are looking positively dashing.” Roselyn smirks.

Cullen stands before them, dressed in cream-colored breaches, tucked into deep mahogany leather boots. He wears a soft jade and gold floral vest and a matching jade formal jacket. Josephine rushes forward to adjust the cream silk cravat around Cullen’s neck and he lets out an exasperated groan. Roselyn’s three advisors were dressed in the colors of the season, so that they could easily fit in amongst the Orlesian nobility, however the Inquisition made the conscious decision to not wear masks to the event, still making them highly visible.

“There!” Josephine beams before taking a step back, standing beside Leliana.

Cullen takes a hand and rakes his fingers through his styled golden hair before they land on the back of his neck. Roselyn admires the way the light from the outdoor lamps cast their glow upon Cullen, his hair a golden halo. Cullen’s amber eyes catch Roselyn’s and if Roselyn was not wearing all this powder and rouge, she is sure the blush on her cheeks would have been noticeable.

Roselyn takes a step back from her advisors and curtsies low.

“Shall we begin?” She glances up and smiles before standing straight.

“Absolutely. Inquisitor, you need to walk in first. You will be introduced as the Grand Duke’s guest and we, as your entourage.” Josephine nods before gesturing to the grand doors before them.

“Well, if all else fails I guess we can set everything on fire.” Roselyn whispers.

Cullen chuckles.

“Do NOT give Sera any ideas.” Josephine warns.

“Relax, Josephine, it was a joke.” Roselyn straightens her shoulders before putting her best smile on display. She glances back at Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen before walking forward.

* * *

“Where have you been? I heard there was a commotion.” Josephine whispers to Roselyn.

“That was Sera, don’t worry I needed a distraction for when I climbed the trellis.” Roselyn whispers back.

“You… What?!” Josephine whispers back in alarm.

“Do I look like an expert in lock picking to you? I needed information, and I have it.” Roselyn flashes a dazzling smile to a passing noble.

“Did anyone see you?” Josephine continues smiling and whispers through her teeth.

“No, Sara’s distraction was… proficient.” Roselyn turns and winks at Josephine before walking away to find Leliana.

* * *

“This is very good. We can use this.” Leliana’s eyes sparkle as she waves a delicately gloved hand at a passing by noble.

“Lady Nightingale! How long has it been?” The noblewoman grins behind her intricate silver mask.

“Far too long, my lady. Tell me, how does Lady Augustana fair?” Leliana’s teeth sparkle as smiles.

“My mother fell ill last spring but she is doing much better. I will tell her you asked after her, you’re such a dear. You are looking very well!” The noblewoman tilts her head to the side before glancing at Roselyn.

“Lady Jeanne, may I introduce the Herald of Andraste, Lady Roselyn Trevelyan. Inquisitor, this is Lady Jeanne Augustana.” Leliana maintains her dazzling smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” Roselyn curtsies and smiles.

“My lady, the pleasure is all mine! I have to say, we did not expect a Marcher to be so charming!” Lady Jeanne giggles.

“You should meet my older brother then; he could charm his way past even the surliest of company.” Roselyn chuckles before pretending to take a sip from her crystal champagne flute.

“So, it is a family trait then! My lady I must be off, it has been a pleasure.” Lady Jeanne curtsies before taking her leave.

Roselyn glances at Leliana, who was scanning over the crowd of people dancing below. Roselyn turns her gaze toward Cullen who was being hounded by several nobles that Roselyn did not recognize.

“I’ll return with more news.” Roselyn mumbles before leaving Leliana.

* * *

“Commander Cullen, could you assist me for a moment?” Roselyn’s voice cuts through the crowd of bodies.

Cullen immediately stands at attention, his brow furrowing in worry. He pushes past the Orlesians, who, refused to move out of his way. Roselyn places her arm in his and together they stroll, Cullen stiff and awkward, and Roselyn smiling at all of the nobles they pass by.

“What—?” Cullen begins to ask.

“Smile Commander, we have hundreds of eyes on us.” Roselyn whispers under her breath.

Cullen does not smile.

As they make their way past the party guests and through the halls of the Winter Palace, Roselyn ends up finding an empty hallway, and begins dragging Cullen behind her towards an empty room. The room was dark and most likely off limits to party guests, however, there were no posted guards. Roselyn was willing to take the risk for now. She releases Cullen’s arm, walking backwards in front of him for a moment.

“I thought you needed to breathe for a minute before you bit someone’s head off.” Roselyn smirked.

“I was doing fine—” Cullen begins to argue.

“Who were all those people anyways?” Roselyn turns away from him, walking around the empty room, she looks up to the large paintings adorning the walls of the room.

“I have no idea.” Cullen blinks, following behind her.

Roselyn stops and stares at a large painting of a blonde-haired woman standing at the edge of a cliff, below her the deadly waves crash against the jagged rocks of the cliff, beckoning her closer. The woman’s face was half turned away, but Roselyn could see the finely painted hairs whipping around her head.

“You have garnered quite the following.” Roselyn smirks, continuing the stare at the painting in the dark.

“I have no idea why.” Cullen puffs out his cheeks.

“You really have no idea?” Roselyn turns towards him, cocking an eyebrow.

“No? Should I?” Cullen squints at her in the dark.

“You really are as dense as you look.” Roselyn smirks before turning back to the painting.

Cullen scoffs and together they stand in silence for a moment before she feels him turn towards her again.

“I heard there was a commotion.” He says quietly.

“I needed Sera to cause a distraction so I could climb a trellis to investigate some rooms. She did so rather emphatically.” Roselyn chuckles.

“Did you find anything?” Cullen raises his eyebrows.

“Yes, several things in fact. And I met a woman named Morrigan. Leliana told me she was once acquainted with her.” Roselyn says nonchalantly while still staring at the painting.

Roselyn waits for a reply but is met with only silence. Roselyn turns to look at Cullen and he looks stunned and his hand rests on the back of his neck.

“What?” Roselyn’s brow furrow.

“Nothing. Just another strange occurrence is all.” Cullen shakes his head and forces a laugh.

“Is this like Hawke’s Warden friend, Alistair?” Roselyn moves a little closer to him.

“What do you know about that?” Cullen frowns.

“He just said that he ran into you during the Blight, a little worse for wear.” Roselyn shrugs, trying to play it off nonchalantly.

“Hmm.” Cullen visibly clenches his jaw.

Roselyn wants to reach her gloved hand up and smooth it over his square jaw. She wants to run her fingers through his tousled hair. She wants to close the space between them and press her forehead against his. A thousand thoughts run through her mind and she doesn’t realize how close she’s gotten in a matter of a few moments. She can feel his hot breath mix with hers and she stares at his slightly parted lips before glancing up at his amber eyes. Roselyn feels her heart thrum against her chest, the sound echoing in her ears and suddenly she feels very aware of her hands which hang like lead at her sides. She thinks back to her quarters and the intense feeling they shared when passing the documents.

Cullen reaches one gloved hand up, his fingertips brush against her hot cheek. She feels her breath quicken and her breasts strain against the tight corset. He carefully tucks a stray curled blonde hair behind her ear before his hand lightly drags against her clavicle and down her arm. Roselyn releases a shuttering breath, every inch of skin his fingers touch feeling like fire. Cullen takes a half step closer, closing the space between the two of them, Roselyn can feel the weight of his chest against her heaving breasts. She tilts her head back, her red painted lips parted in anticipation. She feels dizzy, taking in his scent. Pine, moss, and a little bit of elfroot. He smells like a forest.

And then it’s over.

Cullen suddenly backs away several paces, leaving Roselyn alone with her back almost against the painting. His eyes averted from her gaze. She knows better than to expect any sort of explanation and she feels the waves of disappointment wash over her, crashing over her jagged rocks of isolation, reminding her that she is alone.

Roselyn turns to exit, leaving Cullen alone in the darkened room, with nothing but paintings staring back at him and his shame.

* * *

“Oi, your Heraldi-ness.” Sera nods at Roselyn.

Sera was dressed in a simple sage tunic that had billowing sleeves that gathered at the elbows, with cream-colored tight leather breaches that came up to above her ankles. Over her tunic, she was styled with a simple darker green vest that was decorated with delicate, yet simple cream and sage embroidered leaves and flowers. She was leaning against a table littered with wine bottles and various crystal glasses, none of them seeming to belong to her.

“What is it?” Roselyn leans against the table.

“People are sayin’ servants are going missing.” Sera frowns.

“Already one step ahead of you.” Roselyn holds up a key.

“I’ll get Vivi!” Sera giggles gleefully, disappearing into the crowd.

“I already told her…” Roselyn chuckles.

* * *

“My dear you seem to have managed to charm the court; I have to say that I am surprised.” Vivienne smiles.

“I keep telling you that I am full of surprises Vivienne.” Roselyn chuckles breathlessly.

Vivienne stands amongst a group of similarly dressed nobles, fanning herself with a wide fan. Vivienne was donning a cream-colored gown, with sage and silver geometric and floral patterns running along the hem of her skirts. Her corset was a rich emerald, trimmed with sage colored lace. Vivienne’s high collar and tight sleaves were sage, trimmed with silver and decorated with similar floral patterns.

“That you do my dear. Have you met my dear friend Lady Lourdes of Lorraine?” Vivienne flashes a dazzling smile before turning to a woman of gold complexion and dark brown hair that peaked out in soft curls behind her wide brimmed hat and bronze colored mask.

“It is a pleasure Lady Lourdes.” Roselyn curtsies before holding her practiced smile.

“Non- The pleasure is all mine!” Lady Lourdes says in her thick Orlesian accent and curtsies.

“Lady Lourdes’ family has the most _beautiful_ estate I have ever seen; it is positively divine.” Vivienne sips from her crystal glass.

“Oh, you must come see it! You must come during the spring when the pear trees are in full bloom! You must, I insist.” Lady Lourdes clasps Roselyn’s hands within her own and smiles sweetly.

“It would be an honor, my lady.” Roselyn nods her head.

“I will not forget this, Herald of Andraste!” Lady Lourdes’ hazel eyes sparkle behind her bronze mask. “I must be off; I am to dance. It has been a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Roselyn and Lady Lourdes exchange curtsies.

Roselyn leans against the table next to Vivienne and watches the nobles passing by.

“Lady Lourdes is the sole child of her parent’s estate and is said to inherit a fortune.” Vivienne says lowly so no one hears. “And she is very devout.”

“Thank you for the introduction.” Roselyn whispers.

“Of course, my dear, it’s what I am here for, is it not?” Vivienne turns and smiles before waving at another noble and leaving Roselyn alone.

* * *

“The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I get out of this outfit.” Cassandra grimaces, leaning against the bannister.

Cassandra donned an olive formal jacket, buttoned up to her throat, her cream silk sleeves billowing and gathered at her elbows and wrists. She wore tall heavy mahogany leather boots that reached her mid-thigh. Overall, Cassandra’s attire was the most practical for a fight. Also, Josephine couldn’t convince her to wear a dress.

“Want to trade?” Roselyn smirks.

“You can keep it.” Cassandra chuckles.

* * *

“We need to take you out dancing more often!” Josephine says breathlessly.

“Was that the Grand Duchess?” Cullen rushes forward.

“More importantly, what did she say?” Leliana says.

“I think Grand Duchess Florianne is up to something. She is pinning everything on Gaspard.” Roselyn

“Florianne and Gaspard are thick as thieves, but she would give him up in an instant if it meant saving herself.” Leliana says thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should give them what they want.”

“You mean we _let them succeed_?” Roselyn hisses.

“Listen to me carefully inquisitor, sometimes doing the right thing means people have to die. Celene on the throne does not guarantee peace across Thedas.” Leliana holds her gaze on Roselyn carefully.

“You cannot possibly be saying we let them murder Celene.” Josephine gasps in outrage.

“I would support Gaspard’s claim, but I can’t see any good from coming from Celene’s death.” Cullen frowns.

“Gaspard and Celene aren’t the only ones vying for power.” Roselyn crosses her arms over her chest.

“You cannot possibly be suggesting we support Briala in this mess. She’s conniving at best; she will stab us in the back at worst.” Cullen looks taken aback.

“She is an excellent spymaster. We would do well to have her on our side.” Leliana nods in approval.

“My thoughts exactly.” Roselyn mouth quirks into a soft smirk.

“What is it you have hiding up your sleeves, Inquisitor?” Josephine glances at Roselyn sideways.

Roselyn reaches between her breasts and pulls out a long silver chain, with a locket swinging softly at the end. The metalwork was simple yet, enchanting with vines and leaves encircling the edges of the locket.

“Inquisitor!” Josephine goes wide eyed.

“Better than hiding it in my stockings.” Roselyn shrugs.

“Is that…” Leliana snatches the locket and goes wide eyed for a moment.

“An elven locket found in hidden away amongst Celene’s personal affects? Yes.” Roselyn smirks.

“I don’t even want to know.” Cullen rolls his eyes.

“You probably don’t.” Roselyn takes the locket back from Leliana and stuffs it in between her breasts.

“What’s your angle?” Josephine narrows her eyes.

Roselyn smiles innocently and shrugs before turning and leaving her advisors alone in the alcove. Her red silks of her dress swishing softly as she walks off, her footsteps echo against the marble floors.

“Everyone is in position… For whatever is about to happen.” Cullen mutters softly as he watches her disappear.

* * *

Roselyn reenters the ballroom, a look of cold calculation in her eyes, red bloodstains on the skirt of her dress, and a few platinum curls had fallen out of her otherwise perfectly styled hair. She looks like the perfect storm. Cullen rushes to her side and together they continue a brisk walk.

“Inquisitor! Wait— what happened?” Cullen looks down at her blood-stained dress.

“There’s no time.” Roselyn says breathlessly.

“Roselyn—” Cullen grabs her arm, Roselyn spins in his grasp to meet his gaze.

“Cullen you need to trust me.” She takes his hand in hers and releases it before continuing on her warpath. “I need to have a word with the Grand Duchess.” She smiles.

Together they walk forward, Roselyn walking with trained grace and a dazzling smile, nothing but malice sparkling in her eyes as they continue. Cullen glances at Grand Duchess Florianne who is slowly making her way past the other nobles toward Celene.

Roselyn makes her way up the grand marble staircase, her eye on her target. Florianne glances at Roselyn and visibly gasps, her eyes wide in alarm behind her silver mask.

“The eyes of every noble in the Empire are upon us your Grace, don’t forget to smile.” Roselyn eyes flash dangerously behind her smile. “This is your party. You wouldn’t want them to think you had lost control.”

“What ever could you mean, Inquisitor? Who would not delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor?” Florianne stumbles over her words, visibly shaken by the appearance of Roselyn, a weakened forced smile plastered across thin her lips.

Celene’s eyes narrow.

“I seem to recall you saying, “All I needed was to keep you out of the Ballroom long enough to strike.” Roselyn carefully folds her gloved hands behind her back.

Florianne frowns.

“When your archers failed to kill me in the garden… Pathetic I might add. Good help is so difficult to find, is it not?” Roselyn smirks. “I feared you wouldn’t save me this last dance.” Roselyn turns her back to Florianne, barely glancing back at her over her shoulder.

“It’s so easy to lose your good graces. You even framed your brother for the murder of a council emissary.” Roselyn turns and walks around Florianne, only mere inches away. “It was an ambitious plan. Empress Celene, Grand Duke Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds… all your enemies under one roof.”

“This is very entertaining, but you do not imagine anyone would believe your wild tales?” Florianne smiles weakly.

“That will be a matter for a judge to decide, dear cousin.” Celene finally speaks.

“Gaspard? You cannot believe this! You know I would never…” Florianne backs away, looking like a cornered animal. Gaspard and Briala turn away, not looking back at Florianne.

In an instant, Florianne’s eyes grow wide with terror as she realizes her position. Her eyes dart toward Roselyn who remains mere inches away from the cornered duchess.

  
“You… You backwater maleficar common tongue _bitch_. This is the Grand Game; you’re just some _Marcher_ how _dare you—”_ Florianne produces a silver knife from her sleeve and darts forward.

Roselyn raises her hands, her eyes burning and her smile melting into a smirk. Cullen feels the rush of cold air as he rushes forward, his hands outstretched. He can hear the nobles gasping and he can hear someone scream in the distance. Florianne freezes in place, the knife only mere inches from Roselyn’s throat. Roselyn carefully plucks it from Florianne’s frozen grasp and admires it for a moment before looking back at the frozen, snarling Florianne.

“You lost ages ago your Grace, you’re only the last to find out. A pity that it took you so long.” Roselyn smooths her gloved fingers over the fine silver blade before glancing at the shocked Orlesian Royal Guards.

Roselyn takes a few steps away from Florianne before simply nodding her head and nonchalantly waves in Florianne’s direction with one hand before turning her back. Florianne sputters and coughs and collapses to the ground with a wail before the guards drag her across the marble floors.

“A word your Grace, alone?” Roselyn curtsies before Celene.

Cullen stands, wide eyed and alone.

* * *

Roselyn stands alone on a dark and quiet balcony, the sound of the orchestra playing in the distance. Her deep red wine long abandoned on the stone banister. She takes a deep breath and glances over her shoulder as Morrigan leaves her to her peace. Her feet hurt and she was sure that they were bleeding and blistered in several areas. She finally kicks the satin red shoes, the sound of the heel echoes against the stone of the balcony. She begins pulling out the pins in hair that had been stabbing into her skull for hours. Soon, soft curls begin falling around her shoulders and when she releases the last pin, she releases the sigh that had been building in her chest all night.

“Long night?” A familiar deep voice sighs out softly behind her. She does not even turn to greet him.

“I don’t know where to begin.” Roselyn chuckles.

She hears the quiet steps of his boots against the heavy stone, and he leans against the railing next to her, gazing up at the sky. Roselyn sneaks a glance out of the corner of her eye, his familiar golden halo of hair, still smoothed back.

“If another noble asks me to dance, I might set this damn palace on fire.” Roselyn chuckles dryly. She was only half kidding.

“The feeling is mutual.” Cullen chuckles.

Roselyn feels his eyes on her, and she feels her heartbeat quicken in her throat. She turns, leaning her back to the bannister and throws her head back staring up at the night sky. She remembers this feeling. The soft looks, the anticipation, the closeness. She remembers the hallow feeling in her chest as he takes a step back, forcing her to face the storm of her emotions alone. The feeling was not mutual.

“There you are!” Roselyn hears a low, thick Orlesian ring out. Her head snaps up and she spots a tall thin man with graying hair standing in the doorway. Roselyn stands up proper and smooths her silk skirts.

“Ah, Lord Deveaux! I am delighted you found me.” Roselyn curtsies, feeling her knees and ankles crack at the pressure. Cullen straightens up begrudgingly beside her.

“My Lady, may I have the next dance?” Lord Deveaux stumbles drunkenly forward before bowing deeply.

“Oh, my Lord, I must apologize, the Commander has already claimed my hand for the next dance, and I would hate to disappoint the man. He has been waiting all night to dance.” Roselyn smiles apologetically before elbowing Cullen sharply in the ribs.

“Perhaps the dance after the Commander!” Lord Deveaux walks forward before grasping Roselyn’s gloved hand between his own.

“I shall find you promptly my Lord.” Roselyn gracefully pulls her hand back before curtseying again. “But I must take a few moments to breathe in the fresh air first.” Roselyn smiles apologetically.

“Of course! Come find me, or I will find you again!” The man smiles before leaving them to their peace on the balcony.

“Shit.” Roselyn leans against the railing again.

Cullen chuckles.

“You think it’s funny.” Roselyn glares up at him.

“Only a little.” Cullen smirks.

“I could easily find one of your many fans and give away your location.” Roselyn says, unamused.

Cullen takes a step back before bowing and extending his hand out towards Roselyn. Roselyn blinks in return and narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” Cullen smirks.

“ _Templars don’t dance._ What happened to that?” Roselyn rolls her eyes after imitating Cullen earlier.

“They don’t, so you’ll have to excuse your poorly skilled dancing partner.” Cullen straightens up, taking her hand in his.

Carefully he peels back her white glove and disposes of it on the ground. The feeling of his rough hands sliding the delicate glove cause Roselyn to shiver, and he takes her bare hand in his, before placing his other hand on her waist. Roselyn delicately places her other still gloved hand on his broad shoulder and together they begin to waltz out of step to the music playing in the distance. They begin the dance slowly, finding each other’s rhythm. Roselyn stares up at him and her looks down softly at her as they dance together.

“You know this song is not a waltz, right?” Roselyn smirks softly, unable to look away from his honey gaze.

“I… I only learned the one dance.” Cullen’s cheeks begin to glow red.

Roselyn throws her head back in laughter.

“I can call for your other dance partner in waiting. Lord De—” Cullen begins to call out, a grin spreading across his lips.

Roselyn quickly places her still gloved hand over his mouth in panic. Cullen melts into a chuckle against her hand, still holding her gaze.

“You’re an ass.” She whispers.

Something changes in Cullen’s facial expression, something Roselyn had never seen before. His grin begins to widen wickedly beneath her hand, and he takes his hand from her waist to her wrist, holding her in place before taking his teeth and pulling her remaining glove off. Roselyn gasps and feels a burn building in the pit of her stomach and her chest thrumming loudly in her ears. Cullen slowly places his hand back on her waist and they continue their ill-timed waltz, Roselyn staring back at him wide eyed. Cullen continues smirking down at her.

Eventually their polite waltz changes, melting into something different. Roselyn releases his hand and rests both of her hands against his chest while also nesting her own head under his chin. Cullen’s hands slip lower on her waist and they begin a slow sway, still not in step with the music in the distance. Roselyn has to resist the urge to bury herself against his chest, and instead tries to commit his scent to memory.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it.” She whispers against his jacket.

“Maker forbid we ruin your reputation.” Cullen chuckles.

“Exactly.” She removes her head from his chest and glances up at him. His face barely a few inches away from hers. She feels his hot breath mix with hers again.

He stares at her softly with his amber eyes before leaning his forehead against hers, their lips only a few centimeters away from each other. Roselyn feels her breath quicken and her breasts strain against the corset in anticipation. She slowly licks her painted red lips, while staring at his. Her fingers curl into his jacket, anchoring herself to him before looking up at his eyes. His pupils were wide, and Roselyn can feel the anticipation in his hot breath as it continues to mix with hers. Roselyn stands on her toes and turns her head and lets her lips brush against the shell of his ear.

“Goodnight, Cullen.” She whispers lowly before releasing him and turning away, leaving him alone on the balcony. A smirk plastered across her face.


	3. Chapter 3

Cullen managed to slip into his room without further incident, and without running into anyone else. The image of Roselyn’s hips swaying away from him in that damn dress imprinted on his mind, he could still feel his heart pounding against his chest as he leaned against the closed door. Cullen presses a hand to his where his breaches were straining against his member and he lets out a soft groan.

She was driving him crazy. With her mischievous looks, the way she stares at him so intensely that it feels like all of the air will leave him if she looks away, her red lips.

Her laugh.

Cullen yanks his gloves off of his hands and runs his fingers through his hair, imagining what it would be like to have her delicate fingers run through his curls, pulling them loose from their normal style.

He sighs.

He yanks off the stupid cravat and tosses on the marbled flooring and begins unbuttoning his jacket and vest. He carelessly kicks off the leather boots pulls the cream-colored shirt off and leaves it in the same pile. He places a hand on his still tight breaches and lets out another sigh through his nose. Slowly he begins stroking himself and throws his head back with his eyes shut tightly, trying to picture her. The look on her face when he took off her first glove. The shock. The gasp. The electricity of their skin touching.

And then again, the look of shock as he caught her wrist in his hand and the gasp that escaped her as he peeled back the glove with his teeth.

Cullen unties his breaches and feels his member spring up as he removes the rest of his clothing. He makes his way to the luxurious silk covered bed and collapses half hazardously against what seemed like hundreds of pillows. He continues stroking himself up and down, imagining it was her hand stroking him. His heartbeat quickens and he feels a shuttering sigh escape his lips.

He remembers the way she looks up at him, with her large clearwater gray eyes, sparkling in the dark, before licking her lips and staring at his own. He imagines her licking lips before kneeling down and untying his breaches, peeling them away before taking him in her hands, pumping up and down before pressing her full red painted lips against his tip. He lets out a gasp as she swirls her tongue around him, her lips encircling him whole before pulling away and spitting on his hard cock. She runs her tongue up his entire length before taking him in mouth again, going slow up and down a few times before taking him to his base, his tip ramming down her throat.

Cullen gasps as he increases his speed while pumping up and down.

He imagines taking his fingers and tangling them in her tousled curls that fell around her shoulders, pressing her further down on his cock until a gagging noise escapes her throat. She looks up at him with a smirk plastered against her face.

_“Take me.”_ She whispers against his cock before licking up length again.

Cullen gasps as she stands back up from her kneeling position. Cullen spins her around and presses her against the railing _,_ tearing away at the red silk fabric and quickly finding her entrance. As he finds it as he slides his fingers against her wet opening and feels her gasp. Cullen grasps her chin with his hands forces her mouth open before sliding his own tongue into her mouth, still able to taste himself in her mouth. She moans against his mouth and he takes the opportunity to slide his cock into her wet entrance. He feels her tight and wet around him. Her moan quickly turns into a gasp that Cullen catches with his mouth, moving his lips against hers.

He slides into her once again and she lets out a sharp breath. He reaches under her skirts and smooths his hand against her ass, imagining the way it would curve under his hands. He slides into her again but not before giving her ass a satisfying smack. She gasps in surprise and lets out a laugh.

_“Cullen.”_ She purrs.

“Yes?” He pauses, pressing his lips where her neck meets her shoulder.

_“Fuck me.”_ She commands.

* * *

Roselyn flings herself against the bed, too tired to try and remove the damn dress without any help. She finds herself thinking back to the look Cullen gave her as he rips her last glove off of her hand with his teeth. It was bold and it was certainly brazen. To be frank, Roselyn didn’t think he had it in him. Roselyn continues to feel her heart-beat echo in her ears and feels the warmth that had been building in her core. Slowly she spreads her legs, just enough, and slides her hand down to feel the wetness that had been building.

She groans and slides one finger in her entrance. She begins rubbing herself in circular motions, a soft moan escaping her lips.

She thinks back to their lips, only centimeters apart, and her drunk on his scent. The soft look in his amber eyes as he presses their foreheads together. Why didn’t she just get it over with and crash her lips against his? His tongue against hers, him overtaking her, pressing into her, picking her up and pressing her against the walls of the palace. Her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, anchoring herself to him as he presses wet hot kisses against her jaw first, then her neck, all the way down her clavicle. She imagines raking her fingers through his perfectly styled locks, releasing the curls that he hides from the world as he nips at the skin of her breasts with his teeth.

She imagines him gently setting her down and her at first being confused as fleeting kisses are pressed against her lips, cheek, jaw, neck. Then him getting down on his knees and lifting her skirts, lifting her stocking clad leg and kissing her softly on the inside of her thigh.

Roselyn continues rubbing in circular motions, the wetness between her legs increasing. She feels herself gasp as she finds herself getting closer.

She imagines him gently draping her leg over his shoulder as he disappears under her skirts, Roselyn feeling only the warm feeling of his lips as he gets closer to her center. Then she feels his tongue slide across her slit and she gasps, clenching around him. She can hear him chuckling softly under her skirts before she feels him slide in a finger into her entrance while running his tongue in circular motions around her sex. Roselyn throws her head back and bites her lip, fighting the urge to scream. He continues, pumping his finger into her, slowly introducing a second one and licking her up in the same circular motion. This time she does cry out.

“Are you okay, do you want me to stop?” She can feel him smirking against her.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” She hisses.

He continues pumping into her, speeding up the motion and Roselyn can feel a tightness building in her core. Moans continue to spill out of her as she finds she is unable to control herself. He begins to suck on her sex and Roselyn feels her walls clench as she lets out a scream, spilling herself onto his face as he continues.

Roselyn feels her heartbeat thrum against her chest and echo in her ears as she opens her eyes. She sits up dizzily and finds herself alone in the decorated room.

* * *

_Fuck._

Roselyn knew it would be a bad idea to sleep in this fucking corset, but now she was seriously questioning her decision. Her head pounds as she replays last night’s events in her head. Sera and some elven servants started a small fire on a balcony, Roselyn managed to climb up a two-story trellis in her fucking ballgown and heels. She found countless pieces of blackmail, as well as pieces to the puzzle of the messy machinations known as The Grand Game. Morrigan. The servant’s quarters containing countless dead bodies. A murdered emissary. An Elven Locket. Her head began spinning just thinking about everything.

And then she remembered.

Cullen.

She groans, heat rising to her cheeks.

  
Three prompt knocks echoed against her door; she knew who it was before they even announced themselves.

“Fuck off—” She yells.

The door swings open and she screws her eyes shut tight. She counts the cadence of three separate footsteps.

_Fuck._

“Good morning, Inquisitor.” Josephine says pleasantly.

Roselyn reaches for the nearest pillow and presses it against her face.

“What are you doing—” Josephine asks.

“Killing myself.” Roselyn’s words are muffled by the soft satin.

“Well, you’re doing a poor job.” Leliana chuckles.

Roselyn chucks the pillow at where she assumes, they were standing. She hears the soft thump of the pillow hitting something.

“I beg your pardon.” Josephine sounds appalled.

“You’re pardoned once you leave.” Roselyn grabs another pillow and chucks it.

“She’s not exactly a morning person, is she?” Roselyn can hear Leliana smirk.

Roselyn shoots up, another pillow at the ready. She opens her eyes and squints and sees Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen all standing side by side, with Cullen holding a single white silk pillow. Leliana is dressed in a soft cream dress, with a dramatic empire waist, her scoop neckline lined with a soft pink ribbon, the same ribbon that was tied under her bust. Josephine wore a dress made of the same chiffon cream fabric, except around her neck was tied a large pink chiffon bow, the rest of the dress flowing out, not defining her waist or bust. Cullen stands, looking uncomfortable, dressed in cream-colored breaches, tucked into the same mahogany leather boots he was wearing the night prior. Instead of a formal coat, he merely wore a gold floral vest, with an undershirt that had sleeves that billowed out dramatically.

“Why did you sleep in your dress last night?” Josephine chuckles.

“Too tired.” Roselyn yawns rubbing her eyes.

“We need to begin, there’s a lot of work to do.” Leliana strolls over to the amour and pulls out a long cream-colored dress.

Roselyn stands up and feels her ankles and knees crack as she takes the first few steps out of bed. Josephine ushers her over to the fabric divider, helping her remove the heavy red gown. As soon as the corset is removed Roselyn lets out a sigh of relief and refuses to do anything else before she is able to crack her back.

“What’s on today’s agenda?” Roselyn says as she steps into the comfortable slip that Josephine offers.

“First, we have Brunch with Empress Celene, Marquise Briala, and company. I am expecting Duke Cyril Montfort to be in company as well. Only Vivienne will be in attendance out of your companions.” Leliana begins.

“I don’t see that being Cassandra’s or Sara’s cup of tea.” Roselyn snorts.

“Sera is making herself useful elsewhere, trust me.” Josephine grumbles.

“Cullen will be meeting with Celene’s war general to discuss troop movements throughout Orlais, as well as the end to the ongoing Civil War.” Leliana continues.

“I would like to be present for that.” Roselyn says as Josephine helps lace up her stay.

“I assumed you would. At that time, I have a scheduled meeting with Marquise Briala.” Leliana says.

“To talk about spies.” Roselyn chuckles.

“Tactfully put. But yes.” Roselyn can almost hear Leliana roll her eyes.

“After the meeting with Celene’s war general, there is a meeting of the Council of Heralds that you are to attend with Josephine.” Leliana continues.

“Joy.” Roselyn rolls her eyes. She hears Cullen chuckle softly and she feels her heart skip.

“And then after, Empress Celene is hosting a dinner in your honor.” Josephine finishes for Leliana.

“Excuse me?” Roselyn turns to look back at her.

“You heard correctly, Inquisitor.” Leliana chimes in.

Roselyn pokes her head out from behind the dressing divider.

“Inquisitor, this is an _honor._ For all the hard work that went into last night.” Roselyn glances back at Josephine who was frowning at her.

“They should be throwing you all a dinner in your honors. You all made last night happen. Not me. I just killed some people and climbed trellises.” Roselyn frowns.

“You did a lot more than ‘kill some people’.” Cullen finally adds.

“Where’s that damn pillow?” Roselyn groans.

“Excuse me?” Cullen coughs.

“Shove it.” Roselyn mutters

“Inquisitor!” Josephine frowns at her.

Roselyn sighs and mumbles an apology under her breath while stepping into the cream chiffon gown Josephine had picked out. It had a sweet-heart neckline, and long flowing sleeves that gathered around her elbows and wrists. Her neck and shoulders remained bare. Roselyn looked down and saw the little cream-colored rosettes that bloomed at the bodice and climbed down the delicate chiffon layers. She steps out from behind the divider, picking up the front of the gown to properly walk. She glances up at Leliana and Cullen. Leliana nodded in approval. She makes eye contact with Cullen who swallows and looks away.

“Now we need to do something about that hair.” Leliana steps forward with a comb and numerous pins.

Josephine begins collecting Roselyn’s dress as Leliana delicately begins to comb through the curls that had remained intact from last night. Roselyn closes her eyes for a moment before Josephine’s voice cuts through her empty thoughts.

“Inquisitor… What happened to your shoes? And your gloves from last night? I can’t find them.” Josephine stands with her hands on her waist.

Roselyn’s eyes shoot open and without thinking she looks over at Cullen, who wears a reddened, guilty look on his face. He immediately looks away.

“On a balcony somewhere.” Roselyn forces a chuckle, painting a smirk on her face.

“…What?” Josephine stares in horror.

“I told you I was tired last night. I took off my shoes because my feet were bleeding because _somebody_ wouldn’t let me wear sensible shoes under that monstrosity last night.” Roselyn glances up at Leliana who shrugs and continues brushing through Roselyn’s hair.

“And the gloves?” Josephine blinks.

Roselyn chuckles and doesn’t answer. Out of the corner of her eyes she can see Cullen shift uncomfortably.

Roselyn feels Leliana begin to braid her hair, pulling it gently against her skull, pinning the braids in place. Roselyn hums in contentment, thinking back to the dance she had shared with Cullen the night before, and the events that came after.

“Done.” Leliana stands up, smoothing her own gown.

Roselyn stands and looks at herself in a large silver mirror and nods before glancing back at the others.

“Well, shall we?” She smiles.

* * *

Roselyn was seated directly across from Cullen. It was a large table, sure, but it was also all too easy to brush her feet and legs against his whenever she felt the need. The reactions she received were priceless. First was confusion, then when she gently stroked the back of his calf with her foot, his cheeks grew redder than the wine served the night before. He had no shame in kicking her back.

Roselyn politely began cutting up the pear on her plate, chewing it slowly while listening to a story from Cyril Montfort, who was seated directly beside her. She laughed politely when she needed and smiled when it was required of her. Montfort was not nearly as unpleasant as the majority of Orlesian nobility, but he still was… Orlesian nobility. Roselyn also noticed that whenever she laughed a little too loud at his jokes, or smiled a little too wide, she would feel a pair of amber eyes burn into her, setting her core ablaze.

“So, Lady Trevelyan, you are from the Free Marches? And a mage no less. This all must seem very strange, no?” Empress Celene’s crystal clear voice cut through the conversation across the table.

“Yes, your Grace. Before all this, I was a stranger to travel outside of the Free Marches, never stepping foot across the Waking Sea. But never a stranger to nobility.” Roselyn smiles politely.

“Tell me, at what age did you come into your magic?” Empress Celene leans forward with interest.

“I came into my magic at age seven, however I was not sent to the circle until I was fifteen years of age. So, I had plenty of exposure to the _intricacies_ of the noble life of a young woman, and the expectations of her.” Roselyn sips on her champagne.

“That is very old to be sent to the Circle, is it not?” Empress Celene blinks.

“Very old indeed.” Vivienne looks unamused at the other end of the table.

“I was in proficient control of my magic until my mother, and I had a _disagreement._ ” Roselyn hums.

“What sort of disagreement?” Marquise Briala blinks.

“She had brought up the prospect of finding me a husband.” Roselyn shrugs.

She could feel Cullen’s stare across the table burn into her.

“Well, what happened?” Cyril Montfort blinks.

“It’s not the most exciting story but I accidentally struck a chandelier with lightning and caused it to crash to the ground. And then I panicked and set it on fire. And then I tried to put the fire out. With ice. There was really no denying my magic after that and the argument became a moot point.” Roselyn chuckles nervously while waving her hand nonchalantly, she feels herself beginning to shake. 

“It is the Maker’s Blessing that nothing happened to your _poor_ mother.” Vivienne quietly sips her champagne.

Roselyn bites her tongue so hard that she begins to taste blood. She merely continues to smile politely.

Josephine catches Roselyn’s eye from across the table, a knowing look etched across her face. Roselyn quickly looks away, continuing to bite down on her tongue. This wasn’t a story that Roselyn had ever told anyone except Josephine, and she wished that it had remained that way.

“Commander Cullen! Duke Cyril had wanted to hear about the battle for Haven, and you tell the story so well.” Leliana smiles politely.

Roselyn continues nursing on her champagne, abandoning her food.

* * *

Roselyn exits her room, dressed in a comfortable pair of brown grieves, taupe breaches and a light gray and silver vest, and a cream silk undershirt. As she exits, she finds Cullen waiting for her, dressed in the same outfit from brunch this morning. She tries not to look at him and continues walking down the hallway.

“Inquisitor—” He says softly.

“Commander.” Roselyn says briskly.

“Roselyn, wait.” He gently holds her arm, preventing her from moving forward.

“What?” She finally looks up at him.

His expression is soft, and he is frowning, his amber eyes gentle and warm. Roselyn remembers him pressing their foreheads together and she feels her heartbeat quicken for a moment as he continues holding her arm.

“Are…” He clears his throat. “Are you okay?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” She forces herself to look confused.

He gives her a searching look, his honeyed stare bearing down into her, making her feel small. But, somehow in a good way. In a way that makes her feel like everything she’s feeling is insignificant and in the grand scheme of her life, she knows it won’t matter. She finds comfort in that somehow.

His lips part, as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Roselyn stares at his lips for a moment before looking up at his eyes. His grip on her arm loosens and he takes a step toward her.

“Sleep well, last night?” She smirks while looking up at him.

He narrows his eyes at her before taking another step closer to her. Roselyn finds herself backing into a wall and a small gasp escapes her lips.

“OI! Runferit!” Sera’s voice cuts through the pounding of Roselyn’s heart, Cullen and Roselyn spin around and find Sera sprinting down the marble hallway, being chased by two palace guards.

Sera then opens a door to her left and sprints down that hallway, and Roselyn hears her cackling echo distance.

Roselyn bursts out laughing, throwing her head back in disbelief. She can hear Cullen’s laugh beside her, and she looks back up at him and sees him smiling in disbelief. She admires the way he looks with his smile. Years melt off of his face in an instant. Cullen glances down at her and catches her watching him.

“I didn’t know you could laugh.” She smirks.

“Well, if you were actually funny you might hear it.” Cullen rolls his eyes and walks forward, toward their meeting.

Roselyn stands, slack jawed in disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a bit of ~spice~.


	4. Chapter 4

Roselyn stands, looking over herself in the silver mirror. The dress given to her was black, very different than the dresses she had seen worn in Orlais, but she was assured by Celene’s ladies in waiting that for such a joyous occasion, this would be the perfect gown. Again, Roselyn’s shoulders were bare, with dramatic sleeves that gathered just above the elbow and flowed out elegantly. Her corset was in the Orlesian fashion, drop waist and tight, with the delicate boning exposed and delicate and ornate fabric flowers blooming across her breasts and down the corset, spilling onto the many layers of the chiffon skirts. Roselyn had braided her platinum locks in a familiar Ostwick fashion that she had seen her mother wear many times, she had always admired her mother’s long deep mahogany hair.

There was a soft knock of the door.

“Come in.” She says without glancing at the door.

She smooths her skirts again and leans over to the end table next to the mirror and picks up the lace black gloves. When she looks back up at her reflection, she sees Cullen standing behind her, dressed in a formal black coat and a cream-colored cravat, tied incorrectly. Roselyn smirks and turns to him and begins fixing his cravat, her face only mere inches away from his as she ties it with care.

“You don’t have to do that.” Cullen clears his throat, trying to avoid making eye contact.

“You looked ridiculous.” She smirks before tightening it a little _too_ tight.

Cullen coughs and reaches for the cravat and loosens it to his liking.

“That’s for saying I’m not funny.” Roselyn playfully purses her lips together.

“And yet, I’m still not laughing.” Cullen raises his eyebrows.

Roselyn rolls her eyes before lifting her gloves, to slide the fabric over her fingers. She does so while maintaining eye contact with him, her lips slightly parting while doing so. She watches as he swallows, but never taking his eyes off of her. The corners of her mouth upturn into a smirk.

Three knocks ring evenly at the door before opening. Roselyn and Cullen jump away from each other and Roselyn scrambles, looking for her shoes. Josephine and Leliana file into Roselyn’s room and Roselyn feels a heat flush to her cheeks as she continues to look for her satin black shoes.

“Looking for these?” Leliana holds up a pair of shoes.

“Yes!” Roselyn spins around, her skirt swishing as she spins.

“We couldn’t take any chances of you tossing them off some balcony.” Leliana chuckles.

_Not a bad idea._

Roselyn flashes her practiced smile before stealing a glance at Cullen, who was standing with a similar flush to his cheeks.

“Well, we don’t want to keep them waiting.” Roselyn clasps her glove clad hands together.

“Of course, Inquisitor.” Josephine nods.

* * *

After a few hours socializing, they collectively begin to file into the grand dining room. The tables laid with clean white table clothes, and the centerpieces white peonies in intricate crystal vases. At every table setting, a simple card with everyone’s name, written in impeccable penmanship. They could give Josephine a run for her money.

Roselyn finds herself seated at one end of the table, Empress Celene at the other end. Empress Celene’s dress was made of glittering charcoal. High necked but bare shouldered, her sculpted sleeves fell, long and dramatic. Everyone stood at their place settings before Celene took her seat at the table, with everyone following suite. Roselyn spots Josephine two place settings away, next to Duke Cyril de Montfort. Leliana was about four place settings away from Empress Celene, next to a noble that Roselyn recognized, but did not remember the name of. Cullen was seated between Empress Celene and Marquise Briala, looking extremely uncomfortable. Roselyn had to stifle her grin by looking down at her champagne flute. Vivienne was enchanting the table in a conversation about the most recent party she had thrown at the Ghislain estate, the party in which she had met Roselyn, before Roselyn had been made Inquisitor. Roselyn even spotted Cassandra who was donning a formal coat for the occasion. Roselyn could hardly believe at her friend’s attendance, but was grateful, nonetheless.

“I believe we should have a toast, a toast to the Inquisitor, without whom, this night would not have been possible.” Empress Celene raises her crystal glass at the other end of the table.

“And to all those in the Inquisition, without whom, we all would be lost. Myself in particular.” Roselyn lets out a polite laugh, nodding to each of her companions and advisors. When her eyes settle on Cullen, they hold each other’s gaze for a moment before Roselyn breaks it.

“To new friendships, and rekindled ones.” Marquise Briala’s deep brown eyes twinkle behind her silver mask.

The table raises their glasses in solidarity and together they toast. Roselyn drinks hers slowly, not wanting to overdo it on the champagne. Roselyn feels a set of amber eyes on her from across the table, but refuses to look over, instead leaning over to the Duke Laurent de Ghislain to her right and engaging the Duke in conversation.

Roselyn notices a nod of approval from Josephine out of the corner of her eye, but she ignores it.

* * *

Despite Roselyn’s best efforts not to overdo it on the champagne, she finds herself feeling warm and rosy cheeked. She wanders down the darkened hall by herself, nothing but her shoes echoing against the marble to keep her company. She finds herself pausing outside of Cullen’s door, her heart thrumming in her ears. She continues forward, dragging her fingers against the stone of the windowsills.

Roselyn finally finds her door and pushes it open.

Roselyn feels the rush of cool air rush past her as rough hands grasp at her in the darkness. She spins around and finds herself pinned against the now closed door of her bedroom, one hand gripping her waist tightly, holding her in place. The other hand, gently cupping her cheek. She lets out a gasp in surprise at the contact, and Roselyn finds the familiar honey eyed stare of the man she had been trying not to stare at all night. Roselyn parts her lips but can’t find a snarky comment anywhere to save her life.

“Nothing to say?” Cullen whispers lowly, his breath tickles against her cheek, tasting faintly of the champagne served at the dinner. 

“What do you want me to say?” She smirks before licking her parted lips.

Cullen closes the little space left between their bodies, his lips mere centimeters from hers once again. Roselyn continues holding his gaze, not daring to look away, enraptured. They stare at each other for what feels like hours but could only be a few moments. Roselyn’s hand snakes up his chest and grips his jacket, anchoring herself closer to him. The feeling, satisfying in her fingers. She can feel her breathing shallow in anticipation, and they find themselves in a stalemate, both frozen and waiting for the other to make the first move.

She bites down on her bottom lip and her gaze flickering to his lips, only a few centimeters from hers.

She feels his lips crash into hers, a moment of frenzied ecstasy. His hand gently cradling her cheek reaches behind her neck, angling her head back further, granting him better access and Roselyn feels herself moan against him as he slides his tongue along her lips. A small chuckle erupts from Cullen as he continues pressing into her, persistent, needing, and demanding. Roselyn hands slide up his chest, and soon one of her hands are raking through his blonde hair and she feels a small moan escape his lips as she does so.

They continue like this, panting, moaning against each other for several moments before they manage to untangle themselves from each other’s grasp. Roselyn’s breast heave and strain against the corset and when she looks at Cullen, she sees a look she had never seen on him before.

Yearning.

Roselyn takes a few steps closer to him in the dark, closing the distance between them once again. She begins to slowly unbutton the silver button near his collar, her gaze never leaving his. Once she unbuttons the first, she begins working on the second, and then the third, and then the fourth, until his jacket is entirely unbuttoned. He gently shrugs off the jacket, leaving him in only his shirt and breeches, which, to Roselyn looked uncomfortably tight.

She grins at him smugly.

Cullen narrows his eyes at her before crashing his lips against hers once more. Roselyn immediately gasps and moans against his mouth, tilting her head back to grant him better purchase over her. She smirks as she bites gently on his lower lip, pulling away slightly before glancing back up at him. Cullen narrows his eyes and slips a hand from her waist to her breast, cupping and squeezing it against the corset. Roselyn lets out another shocked gasp and Cullen catches it with his mouth, sliding in his tongue and running it against hers.

Roselyn feels a steady burn building in her core as he continues squeezing at her breast.

“Get me out of this.” She says in a low voice against him.

In a moment he is behind her, peppering her neck and shoulders with kisses as he unlaces her from her restraining corset. Roselyn stifles a gasp when he kisses her at just the right spot on the back of her neck, biting down on her lip. Finally, she feels the dress become loose and she is able to do quick work herself, stepping out of the skirts in nothing but the translucent shift underneath. Roselyn takes a step back from Cullen and lets the straps fall from her shoulders, and the shift falls around her ankles. Cullen remains rooted as he stares at her naked body and Roselyn shivers under his gaze. She feels the heat building in her core once again and she takes a step towards him. Cullen once again closes the distance between the two of them and takes her mouth with his. In one fluid motion he bends down and picks her up, his hands resting under her thighs, and she wraps her legs around him, anchoring herself to him. He continues kissing her as he lays her gently onto the ornate Orlesian bed. Roselyn begins to gently pull his shirt, wanting it off, which he quickly obliges.

Roselyn rolls her hips and grinds against his thigh as he bares down and begins to kiss her again and she feels him groan as she does so, which only encourages her to do it again. One of Cullen’s hands manages to find its way to her naked breasts, and he begins to play with one of her nipples in between his fingers. Roselyn whines against his lips in reaction to the new stimulation. Cullen releases her mouth and begins kissing down her jaw and down her neck and she grinds against his thigh again, feeling a wet spot now forming on his breaches where she had been grinding against. Cullen leans down and takes the nipple he previously had between his fingers, into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the bud. Roselyn cries out and squirms beneath him and she can feel Cullen grin against her breast.

Cullen takes the hand that had been playing with her breast and he begins tracing the sloped outline of her body with it, causing her to shiver beneath him. Cullen reaches between her spread legs, grazing his fingertips outside of her folds. Roselyn takes in a sharp breath. Cullen breaks away from her breast and presses a light kiss to her lips, before taking her other nipple into his mouth.

Roselyn gasps.

She feels Cullen lightly graze his fingertips against her folds again and Roselyn screws her eyes shut tightly and grinds against him, wanting to feel him inside her. Cullen chuckles above her and she can feel him slip one finger between her folds and penetrates her deep, going all the way down to the knuckle. Roselyn digs her fingernails into his bare shoulders and gasps as he penetrates her and sucks on her nipple. 

She rolls her hips again in a grinding motion and she feels him slide in a second finger. She lets out a soft moan and bites down on her lip harder. He begins rubbing her in light circles and she can feel the heat building already deep within her core. Cullen releases her nipple and begins dragging his tongue against her stomach and Roselyn gasps and shivers. She opens her eyes and takes one of her hands and rakes her fingers through his already tousled curls. Cullen drags his tongue further and Roselyn glances down and watches as he gently begins placing kisses on her inner thigh. Their eyes lock and Roselyn bites her lip as she is overcome by the heat of his gaze.

While maintaining eye contact, Cullen runs his tongue over her folds Roselyn gently drapes her leg over his shoulder, pulling him closer.

“A bit needy?” Cullen breathes huskily against her, a smirk erupting from his lips.

“Fuck you.” She laughs breathily.

Roselyn licks her lips and runs her fingers through his curls again but instead of stopping, she gently grips them in her hand, guiding him toward her center. She feels him chuckle against her before inserting two fingers deep inside her and licking her in soft, circular motions around her sex.

Roselyn cries out.

“Fuck— oh sweet Maker—” Roselyn breathes in between moans.

Cullen smirks as he swirls his tongue over her sex once more, pumping his fingers in and out of her. Her body shudders as he continues moving his tongue over her and her grip on his blond locks only tightens.

“Cullen—” She moans loudly and trembles.

Roselyn feels the heat building in her core and she presses her heal hard against his back. Her body bucks and squirms under him as he continues the same motions, over and over again, faster and faster. She cries out again and feels the blinding sweet release. She just keeps moaning his name like a prayer incoherently, over and over.

Once she is able to open her eyes again, she finds Cullen pressing light kisses to her thighs, a smile spread across his lips. Roselyn sits up to meet him, taking his lips with hers. Roselyn smirks against his lips, tasting herself. She slowly hooks her leg under his, gaining the leverage she would need to flip him onto his back. She takes her hand, running it against his bare chest, admiring how he feels against her skin, and slowly makes her way down, her fingertips brushing against the seam of his breeches. She feels him shudder to her touch and she bites down on his lip one last time, slowly pulling on it. When she releases his lip, she opens her eyes, savoring the look on his face.

And then she flips him onto his back, pinning him down. Cullen looks up at her and blinks in surprise. She makes quick work of her hands, releasing him from the last articles of clothing. When she’s done, she repositions herself over him, staring down at him. She leans down and presses a gentle kiss against his lips before kissing down his chin and jaw, following down his neck. She feels his rough hands smooth over her waist as she continues kissing down his chest, following down to his navel, and down to where the muscle dips. Finally, she takes his length in her hands and gently pumps up and down before sliding her tongue along the side of his shaft. As she moves her tongue over him, she stares back up at him watching his reaction.

He keeps his amber eyes trained on her, and when her tongue slides over tip, Roselyn can’t help but smirk as his eyes roll back. She slides her togue over the shaft again before taking him fully into her mouth. She hears him gasp as she begins to bob up and down, slow at first, and then increasing her pace. She hears his breathing becoming ragged between gasps and feels the familiar heat build in her core. She continues bobbing up and down, allowing him to fill her mouth, and she feels his hand press against the back of her head, gently guiding her down further along his cock until she gags against him.

She releases his member from her mouth and uses her hand to wipe away the remaining spit from the corners of her mouth before she straddles him again. He finally opens his eyes, his golden-eyed stare remaining trained on her. She takes his length in her hand and lifts herself, guiding him to her entrance. She doesn’t waste any more time of slowly introducing his length and cries out as he fills her, completely, inside. Roselyn feels his hands rest themselves on her waist as she begins riding him, his fingers digging into her skin and leaving faint bruises. It doesn’t take long before Roselyn feels the heat build in her center again. She begins to increase her pace, her moans growing louder and louder. For a moment she opens her eyes and looks down at Cullen and finds him staring intently up at her, a smile escapes her lips as she continues riding, the heat and pressure building in her core.

And then she feels release once more, her back arching as she collapses forward against Cullen, crying out silently, her face pressed against his neck. Cullen’s hands push her onto her back and Roselyn cries out as he begins fervently pounding into her as she continues to ride out her orgasm. She bites her lip, swallowing her own screams and stares up at him as he screws his eyes tight, focusing on his own build.

When he finally spends himself on her stomach, he collapses beside her, draping an arm slick with sweat over his forehead. Roselyn stares up at the bed canopies in a daze, with her hand over her own chest, focusing on her beating chest. Silence falls over them, except for the sound of their labored breathing.

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen is the first to speak.

Roselyn chuckles in response before finally standing to clean herself off. She feels his eyes follow her as she walks around the room, but she never glances back at him.

“So, admit it.” Roselyn smirks without looking at him.

“Admit what?” She hears him say.

“You find me irresistible.” Roselyn turns and grins wickedly at him.

Cullen snorts and shakes his head before leaning back against the multitude of silken pillows.

“So, you don’t find me irresistible?” Roselyn slowly walks back over at the bed, a hand on her bare hip.

“I find you persistent.” Cullen rolls his eyes.

“Persistent? I was minding my own business, retiring to my chambers for the night.” She climbs onto the bed, feigning innocence.

“Minding your own business.” Cullen snorts again, staring up at her.

“Exactly.” Roselyn looms over him, smirking.

“And what if I did?” Cullen props himself up, meeting her halfway.

“What?” Roselyn breathes, feeling his hot breath against hers.

“Find you irresistible?” He looks down at her lips for a moment before meeting her gaze again.

“Theoretically?” She whispers.

“Sure.” He chuckles.

“Well, I—” Roselyn begins but is cut off by his lips meeting hers.

* * *

Cullen awakens to the sound of soft snoring and the feeling of the warmth of the sun beating down on his face. The soft warmth of sleep inviting to drag him under once again, until he realizes. Until he realizes he hears the faint sound of snoring. His eyes shoot open, and he glances down to find Roselyn curled against him, her face pressed up against his shoulder. His heart skips a beat and then his eyes widen with horror as he notices the light pouring into the room. He quickly shoots up out of the bed, frantically searching for his clothing.

Roselyn gently rustles the sheets and half sits up in the bed, bleary eyed and squinting at him as he panics, trying to find his clothes.

“I overslept—” he whispers.

Roselyn blinks but then suddenly goes wide eyed.

“Shit.” She breathes.

Cullen finally finds his breeches and hastily tries to slip them over his legs as he grabs for his boots. Roselyn hops out of bed, searching the sheets for his shirt. Cullen slips the boots over his calves and picks up his jacket, draping it over his arm.

“Your shirt—” She mumbles, still searching for his white shirt amongst the white sheets.

“There’s no time.” He walks over to her, quickly pressing a fleeting kiss against her lips before hastily exiting from her room.

* * *

Roselyn shuffles through the reports on her temporary Orlesian desk, searching for one in particular from Scout Harding. Three steady knocks echo against the bedroom door and Roselyn doesn’t even look up or respond. She hears the doorknob turn and she half waves as she continues searching for the report she’s looking for.

“Inquisitor?” Josephine asks, shocked.

“Josephine?” Roselyn mimics her tone.

“You’re up early.” Leliana remarks.

Roselyn shrugs and makes eye contact with Cullen, his honey eyed gaze fixated on her with a faint blush painting his cheeks. Roselyn feels the heat return to her own cheeks, and turns her attention back to the report she had been looking for, a grin spreads across her face and she turns to face her advisors, holding up the report in success. Roselyn sees the three of them standing in the threshold of the bedroom door, Josephine carrying a tray for tea. Roselyn stands and takes the tray from Josephine, placing it on the stack of reports on the desk. Josephine wrinkles her nose but says nothing.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Roselyn glances between the three of them.

“Back-to-back meetings all day, I’m afraid.” Josephine smooths the skirts of her dress.

“Joy.” Roselyn says while pouring herself some tea, looking over the report that she had been looking for.

* * *

Roselyn stands with her hands braced against the table before her, staring at maps of Orlais. The past couple days had been filled with meeting after meeting, and Roselyn was sure that now these maps would be forever burned images in her mind. She sighs and rolls her shoulders, feeling the tension pulling at the muscles behind her neck.

Roselyn hears the soft open and close of the door behind her, the soft padding of leather boots hitting the marble floors. She doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, their steps all too familiar.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” She grumbles.

“Josephine thinks you’re doing rather well.” Cullen chuckles.

“And you?” Roselyn snorts.

“Ah well, I think we’ve already established that Orlesian politics are beyond my expertise.” Cullen stands beside her, looking down at the same maps that Roselyn had been staring at.

Roselyn merely hums in response and bites her lip, not tearing her eyes away from the little pieces that littered the maps. She began going over her mental notes again but was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate at the task at hand.

“You’ve been staring at these for hours.” Roselyn catches Cullen glance at her out of the corner of her eye.

“And yet it feels like I’m right at where I started.” Roselyn groans, pressing her thumb and forefinger to her forehead, grimacing.

She feels him shift, only slightly, but enough to now they were brushed up against each other. She glances up at him and finds him watching her, a soft blush rises to her cheeks and she glances back down at the maps below her. Roselyn sees out of the corner of her eye his hand moves slowly towards hers. He lifts his rough fingers and begins gently tracing her knuckles. The sensation causes the hairs to stand up on her arm and Roselyn shivers. Roselyn swallows and slowly looks up at him. She finds him, soft and staring. She leans in closer against him, her lips slightly parting as she continues to gaze up at him. His hand moves to cup the side of her face, his thumb gently brushing against her lips.

They stand like this, frozen in place.

The sound of the doorknob turning tear both of them out of their thoughts, causing both of them to jump out of their skin. Roselyn backs away from Cullen several steps, a heat rising to her cheeks once again. They booth whip their heads to the opening door and find Josephine walking in.

“Oh, you’re both here!” She smiles.

“Just staring at these damn maps.” Roselyn awkwardly laughs.

“I was hoping you would accompany me for an evening stroll, there is much I would like to discuss.” Josephine nods at Roselyn.

“Of course.” Roselyn nods.

“Perfect!” Josephine stands waiting beside the door.  
  


“Commander.” Roselyn bids farewell to Cullen, barely even able to make eye contact with him.

“Inquisitor.” Cullen merely nods.

* * *

Cullen stares up at the ceiling of his room, the faint glow of moonlight pouring into the room, creating odd shapes and shadows in the dark. He gently runs his fingers through his hair and sighs out of his nose. They only had a few more days left in Orlais, but the sooner they were able to leave the better in his opinion.

In the dark he hears the creak of the wooden door to the bedroom eerily creek, the sound echoing throughout the room. Cullen shoots up, squinting in the darkness. Roselyn’s figure emerges out of the darkness, grinning wickedly at him, and he can’t help but chuckle at her appearance and in relief. She closes the distance between them, collapsing horizontally across his bed.

“Did I scare you, _Commander?_ ” A devious glint sparkles in her eye.

Cullen merely rolls his eyes.

Roselyn sighs and kicks off her boots and stares up at his ceiling. Cullen snorts and shakes his head.

“What?” Roselyn glances back at him

“Please, make yourself at home.” He teases.

Roselyn sits up and grins wickedly at him before beginning to unbutton her vest, disposing of the article of clothing on the floor. Cullen raises an eyebrow at her and before he knows it, he sees her begin to peel away her blouse, leaving her just in her breaches and a band wrapped around her breasts. He feels a heat rise to his cheeks as she stretches out horizontally across his bed once more and begins to slowly shimmy her way out of her breaches. Leaving her in her smalls.

“It wasn’t a challenge.” He coughs.

“So, you don’t want me naked in your bed?” She bites down on her lower lip while looking up at him with her gray eyes wide.

Cullen swallows.

She sits up again and shimmies out of her breast band. Cullen had a feeling she was moving more slowly to try and elicit a reaction out of him, and it was working. Once her breasts are released, she sighs and stretches, displaying herself in full view for him. Cullen feels heat rise to his cheeks.

“Do you want me to leave?” She whispers, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No.” He says finally.

She crawls over to him, closing the distance between them. She leans over toward him and he feels her lips brush against his cheek before she stops at his ear.

“Prove it.” She breathes against the shell of his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~SPICE~ 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

_Roselyn looks out the window on her family’s estate. It’s just like how she remembers, with fields of tall white flowers that bloomed every year outside of her family’s ancestral home. She doesn’t realize how much she’s missed the sight until now, the memories of the flowers making her ache for her abandoned childhood. The sun touches the horizon, painting the once cornflower blue sky in brilliant shades of coral and crimson._

_As the sun sets, the sky dwells in shades of garnet and burgundy, staining what’s left of the Ostwick countryside as it clings to the dwindling light. This isn’t any memory in particular, but rather perhaps the stitching of a hundred sunsets from her memories. When the sun finally disappears beyond the horizon, it doesn’t take the shades with it, instead the faint pigments left from the sunset only glow angrier the longer they go without the sun illuminating them. A nauseous pit forms in her stomach, this is wrong, she thinks._

_The angry carmine color pulls at the back of her skull, she knows this color. It doesn’t belong here._

_Roselyn hears a sickening crack, like the sound of lightening striking stone, and for a moment her heart stops. It’s familiar. Too familiar. She’s been here before, but she can’t remember what comes after._

_A hot and angry light blinds her vision, making it now impossible to see anything in front of her. The stillness of the air almost suffocates her before she feels it._

_The incoming explosion._

_She holds up her hands to shield her eyes from the shattering glass from the window, but unconsciously she opens her mouth to scream. The pieces of glass cut her mouth left open, and she feels the tiny shards carve into the sensitive skin. Roselyn tries to force her mouth close, but only finds herself opening it up wider, allowing the fragments of glass to further lacerate. She feels the glass begin to pour down her throat, forcing her to swallow the sharp pieces._

_When she is finally able to open her eyes, she finds herself in a dark room, standing in front of a darkened mirror. Her reflection stares back at her, crimson droplets of blood leaking out of the corners of her mouth and fragments of the shards of glass pressed into her full bleeding lips. Roselyn feels a sense of panic and dread but as she continues staring at herself in the mirror, she notices the calm expression her reflection stares back at her with. Roselyn reaches with one hand to press against the reflection, but the reflection remains still, staring back at her motionless._

_Two figures walk up behind Roselyn’s reflection. The figures being the tranquil representations of her father and eldest brother. Roselyn feels tears threatening to spill out of the corner of her eyes and down her cheeks as she sees them stand before her._

_“You did this.” They say simultaneously, with a voice unified and haunting, unfamiliar to her._

When Roselyn wakes, she feels the wetness of tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. It is still dark, with the promise of dawn slowly staining the night sky with the faint colors of daybreak. Cullen is sleeping beside her, laying on his back, the soft sounds of sleep escaping his lips.

Roselyn stares out the large window as the sun begins to rise over the Winter Palace. The promises of delicate golds, purples and blues etch their way across the skies of Orlais and she continues to search for signs of the angry carmine color that had haunted her dreams. Eventually, Roselyn untangles her limbs from his and tries her best not to wake him. She continues staring absently out the window as the light begins to slowly flood the room, sitting up in the bed with the sheet halfway wrapped around her body. She does not know how long she sits like this, but eventually the warm sensation of Cullen’s fingertips brushing against her exposed back drags her out of her absent-minded dream like state.

The golden light from the rising sun pours into the room creating a hazy warm glow that Roselyn could bask in for hours. She turns her head and glances back at him over her shoulder. Cullen’s soft curls reflect the morning light and Roselyn feels the urge to drag her fingers through them and lose herself, but she resists the urge. He continues looking up at her in his sleep drunk state and she smiles weakly down at him. She wants nothing more than to bury herself in his shoulder and release the grief she keeps tightly held inside her, but the thought terrifies her. She doesn’t want him to see her like this.

Unraveled.

That’s not who she is to the Inquisition. She was the Inquisitor, the unstoppable force who fought aspiring gods, time travelling Magisters, demons, and wicked court savvy Duchesses. She was the hand that stitches the veil back together and heals the holes in the sky. She was the woman shouldering the hopes and fears of Thedas, and once her resolve breaks, so does the people’s faith.

It wasn’t fair, but in all honest truth, very little ever was.

“I should go.” She says quietly as she gazed softly down at him. 

She doesn’t wait for his response before she slips out of his bed and begins the hunt for the various items of clothing that she had let scatter the floor. As she dresses Roselyn feels his eyes on her, watching her from the warm tangle of sheets. She fears he might be able to see through her carefully crafted façade and feels as though if she were to stare back into his golden gaze her carefully crafted exterior would crack, and she would crumble.

She moves closer to the bed to slip on her boots, and she hears him move beneath the wrinkled sheets to sit up. He reaches out with a warm hand to catch hers and he pulls her closer to the bed. She casts her gaze to the side, still not wanting to meet his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” He says softly, sleep making his voice hoarse.

“There isn’t anything wrong.” Her voice comes out as barely a whisper and she gives him a weak smile.

“Hey,” He begins, shifting to move closer to her, concern echoing through his voice.

“Cullen—” She tries to speak but her voice cracks under the pressure.

This is not how she wanted to start her day today.

“Did I do something, or say something—?” Roselyn can hear the alarm in his voice and what little resolve she had been grasping was slowly slipping.

“No, of course not.” She forces a smile. 

“Then what’s wrong?” He frowns. 

“You don’t need to worry.” She says quietly.

He tries to pull her closer to him and she resists and pulls her hand from his grip. She bites her lip and bends down and swiftly tries to guide her boots on as quickly as she can. It is not until she is about to leave his room that she glances back at him, his amber gaze ablaze with worry and creases formed between his brows in concern. If she stays any longer, she fears that she will disintegrate and she knows that she can’t put that on him. They all had so much weight on their shoulders to bear, and she would not add to his, no matter how willing he may be.

* * *

Roselyn does the only thing she knows how to do when feeling overwhelmed with these thoughts and feelings that left her haunted from her nightmare. She buries herself further in work, so she doesn’t have to think about the memories of her dreams clawing at the back of her skull, or that tight feeling in her chest. As her day continues and meetings drown out the hum aching in the back of her skull, she feels Cullen’s eyes fall on her periodically, but she pretends not to notice.

She was the Inquisitor, the unstoppable force who fought aspiring gods, time travelling Magisters, demons, and wicked court savvy Duchesses. She was the hand that stitches the veil back together and heals the holes in the sky. She was the woman shouldering the hopes and fears of Thedas, and once her resolve breaks, so does the people’s faith.

She just wants to go through the motions.

* * *

Cullen walks through the halls of the Winter Palace, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. The weight of words unsaid caught in his joints, stiffening his every movement. At times he finds himself watching her, her eyes casting a hollow gaze, refusing to look at him. Even if it is just the once.

The sun sets over Orlais, casting long shadows that stretch across the corridors, scattering the golden light as it glimmers against the gilded decorations, inlaid in the marble stone. Cullen finds himself in a familiar hallway, the same one Roselyn had dragged him down just a couple nights ago, her lush red silk skirts dragging behind her as she led him down the darkened hallway. He walks past a familiar archway leading to the room with countless paintings covering the walls. When he first found himself in this room, he found his head spinning with so much to look at. His gaze falls on the familiar sight of Roselyn standing in the same primrose dress she had been wearing for hours. She folds her arms over her chest, the loose-fitting sleeves gently cascading around her; her gaze enraptured by the painting of the woman standing in defiance to the drowning waves around her, her face half turned away from the viewer.

Cullen takes a few steps closer to her, taking care with his steps as to not frighten her from her trance as she stares up at the large painting, her lips slightly parting as she continues to stare up with an unreadable expression. Soon he is standing behind her, and he too, stares up at the painting, allowing it to wash over him. At first glance, the painting looks gray, but when he stares longer, he notices not one part of the painting being gray. A careful blend of dull greens and blues wash into one another, weathering the canvas and pulling the viewer closer to the sharp and jagged cliffs. The longer he stares, he no longer finds the woman standing in defiance to the storm and the waves crashing against the rocks around her, but instead letting the storm gather around her, letting herself be washed into the storm with her blonde hair whipping around her half-turned face.

“Is everything prepared for our journey back to Skyhold?” He hears her say, pulling him out of the painting.

“We should be ready to depart at first light.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at her.

She slowly nods, tearing her own gaze away from the painting towards him. She wears a thin smile as she looks up towards him, practiced and perfect. The same smile she had been wearing around during their time at the Winter Palace. He finds himself swimming in her eyes, a quiet storm brewing behind them, her hollow smile not reaching them.

He knows she won’t tell him why she was sitting awake, unblinking, staring out the morning-stained windows. He knows she won’t tell him why she wouldn’t even look at him for hours on end today. He had ideas as to why, but he knows she’s not ready to tell him why.

He imagined it was the same reason why he wakes some days before the sun even touches the horizon. The same reason for his poor attitude for weeks on end.

He knows they’re not the same. They never could be.

But he understands.

Roselyn turns back and brushes against him, resting her head against his shoulder, looking at the painting of the woman with golden hair, alone in the storm.

* * *

Roselyn smooths over her chemise before climbing into the luxurious bed. She yawns and begins braiding her hair back in a simple plait. She was left empty and exhausted from the week’s events and she longed to be back in Skyhold. She longed for the familiar sights and sounds. She longed to sleep in her familiar bed.

Three steady knocks echoing against the door to her chambers leave her with a sense of dread.

Before she can even respond, the door swings open and she hears the familiar shuffle of feet that she come to learn. One by one, each of her advisors file into the room, with serious expressions on each of their faces.

“Well, I’m assuming this isn’t a friendly visit.” Roselyn groans.

“We’re afraid not, Inquisitor.” Josephine frowns.

“We have just received news from the Western Approach. Several of our scouts have gone missing and we have received word that strange lights and sounds are coming from Adamant. We fear that it won’t be long now.” Leliana frowns.

“So… I need to leave for Adamant.” Roselyn says slowly.

“We leave at dawn.” Cullen clears his throat.

“I see.” She looks up and meets his gaze.

She was the Inquisitor, the unstoppable force who fought aspiring gods, time travelling Magisters, demons, and wicked court savvy Duchesses. She was the hand that stitches the veil back together and heals the holes in the sky.

She was now going to face a demon army in the Western Approach, and Maker knows what else.

She was the woman shouldering the hopes and fears of Thedas, and once her resolve breaks, so does the people’s faith, she reminds herself.

* * *

Roselyn had given up on sleep hours ago, the anticipation of the journey ahead swimming through her thoughts. She knew that this was coming, they had been talking about this since her experience in Redcliffe.

But she couldn’t help the sense of dread at the thought of leaving at dawn.

She looks up at the night sky, tracing the patterns the stars. This was familiar to her. One by one, she begins to recall the names of the different constellations and the names of the various stars that litter the night’s sky.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Cullen’s voice pulls her out of her trance.

“I just wanted to watch the sunrise.” The corners of her mouth twitch into a smirk, she glances behind her and sees him standing in the doorway to the balcony.

“Sounds familiar.” Cullen chuckles and shakes his head. “But I just wanted to remind you, that sunrise isn’t for another three hours or so.”

“The last time you said that to me, I left for Redcliffe in the morning. Now we must leave for the Western Approach, I wonder what horrors we may face from this departure.” She turns away and glances back up toward the stars.

“We are more prepared now than we were at Redcliffe.” She can hear the frown in his voice.

“How could you know that?” She frowns.

“Because I do.” She hears him approach her.

“Strange, did I come back to a reality where you can see the future?” She glances sideways at him.

“If I could see into the future, I’m not so sure I would have waited so long to...” A faint blush creeps onto his cheeks and he grows quiet before he is unable to finish his sentence.

She turns to face him, leaning a little closer. She could smell his familiar scent of oakmoss and elderflower this close. She finds it comforting. She sees him gazing softly down at her and she can’t help but chuckle at his sweet expression.

“What?” His eyebrows knit together.

“You’re such a romantic. It’s absolutely nauseating.” She chuckles.

He rolls his eyes at her. 

She leans in closer, gazing up at him, a faint smile brushing her lips as she stares up at his own.

“Care to dance?” She smirks as she takes his hand in hers.

“I’m afraid your dancing privileges have been revoked.” He smirks down at her.

“Pity, for I dearly do love to dance.” She licks her lips while looking up at him.

He sighs before turning his body toward her, his one hand finding her waist and the other still holding her other hand, raising it. She grins triumphantly up at him as they begin a slow, clumsy waltz, on their balcony under the clear night sky.   
  
“I win.” She says.

“It was never a competition.” He rolls his eyes.

“Said the loser.” She smirks.

“If this is losing,” He presses his forehead against hers. “I guess I can stand losing, just this once.”

She places a chaste kiss against his lips before sighing contently as they continue their waltz on the balcony. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!


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